Multum in parvo
by Got Tea
Summary: Sara has a secret, and Grissom has a decision to make.
1. Chapter 1

This is set a little after Butterflied, but before the season four finale.

___

It was a little over an hour into the graveyard shift when Judy straightened from a filing cabinet and returned to her desk. She was just sitting back down when she noticed the main doors closing. There was a young girl standing there, dressed in baggy jeans and a warm jacket against the cold of a Las Vegas winter night. Her feet were clad in sneakers that had been tattooed with sharpie and she had a back pack slung over her left shoulder. In her right hand was a leash, the other end of which was attached to the collar of a golden retriever wearing a service animal vest. Judy watched as the pair made their way over to her desk; the girl, who limped slightly, favoring her left side, couldn't be more than eight or nine. Up close she had pale ivory skin and startling green eyes. Her wildly curly brown hair was pulled back into a pony tail that reached part way down her back. Her eyebrows were the same shade, and were gently arched while her frivolously long lashes, also brown, framed her eyes dramatically. There was no doubt about it; she was cute as they come.

"Is Sara Sidle here?" she asked in a soft, whispery voice.

"No, I'm sorry, she left a while ago. Do you want me to page her for you?" asked Judy, surprised. The little girl shook her head.

"No, I'll wait for her to come back." When Judy opened her mouth to protest the girl took a step back and buried a hand in the dog's soft fur, her eyes wide. "I won't be any trouble, I promise," she said quietly and turned, going to the farthest corner of the room and settling into a chair to wait. Judy watched the dog curl up by the girl's feet as the youngster pulled out headphones and a battered copy of Moby Dick. Sitting back in her chair the secretary folded her hands, thinking.

---

Sara Sidle, Gil Grissom and Nick Stokes of the crime lab waited just inside the crime scene tape with Detective Jim Brass while the coroner approached the body.

"Nobody's touched him," Brass called out. "Passerby saw him and called it in, didn't even approach."

"Thanks," answered David, kneeling beside Mr. John Doe. He patted the man's pockets then pulled out a wallet. "Tommy Jones, lives down the street," he said, putting down the wallet and rolling the db. When he pulled open the shirt to check liver temperature the man sat up, cursing. David leapt back, shocked while Mr. Jones scrambled to his feet, bellowing drunkenly at someone called Jenni. Brass sighed and walked forward. Sara looked at her companions.

"Guess it's his lucky day," she said quietly, turning back toward the Denali. Grissom and Nick followed. The ride back to the lab was silent. Sara leaned against the window in the backseat, her eyes closed. Grissom sat in front of her, working on a crossword. Nick drove, trying to ignore the tension crackling between his boss and friend.

"What a way to waste a couple of hours," he muttered as he pulled into the lab parking lot at almost two am. The other two grumbled their agreements and collected their kits, heading inside.

"Sara, you have a visitor," said Judy as soon as the trio entered the building.

"I do?" asked Sara, turning in the direction the secretary was pointing. Her kit fell from her hand and hit the floor with a thud, "Oh no," she gasped, darting across the room to the little girl. The CSI dropped to her knees next to the dog, reaching up to touch the face of the half sleeping child. The girl moaned softly and tumbled out of her chair and into Sara's arms. Sara stood, holding the child to her, and looked at Grissom. He nodded and led her down the hallway to his office, the dog trailing them. Confusion etched on his face Nick picked up the backpack and book the girl had dropped and followed, snagging Sara's case on his way past Judy's desk. The secretary shrugged in response to his raised eyebrow.

---

In Grissom's office Sara gently set the girl on the couch and helped her peel off her jacket, exposing a purple sweater. The dog sat with its head on the girl's lap, whose fingers resting on its muzzle in reassurance. Grissom vanished as Nick entered and set his burdens down before taking a seat next to the little one, who smiled sleepily at him.

"Is this yours?" he asked, holding up Moby Dick. The girl nodded.

"It's my favorite," she murmured, fighting off a yawn. "Have you read it?" Nick shook his head.

"No, I haven't."

"Then you should borrow it, I can always finish it another time." She yawned again and rubbed her eyes. The dog whined and poked her leg with its nose. The girl petted it. "I'm ok Parsley," she said, soothingly.

"Parsley?" asked Nick, smiling.

"I didn't name her," grinned the girl. "But I do have a cat name Thyme and a fish called Sage. And my mom has a cat called Rosemary."

"I get it, Scarborough Fair," said Nick.

"My favorite song," replied the little one, humming a few bars.

"What's your name?" asked Nick

"Annabelle Alexandra Sidle. What's yours?"

"Nick Stokes," he replied, gently shaking the hand that was gravely offered to him.

"How old are you?" he continued, trying to think of a tactful way to ask his next question.

"Ten," was the reply.

"No way," he replied, "you're no more than eight or nine at the most." The girl shook her head.

"I'm ten, honest. I'm just little for my age. Right mom?" she asked, taking Sara's hand and leaning into the brunette who was settling on the couch next to her.

"Absolutely," replied Sara. "September 19th 1994, three days after my 23rd birthday; the best birthday present I ever had," the CSI smiled and kissed the top of Annabelle's head. Nick stepped back and sank in to one of Grissom's spare chairs, stunned. He watched as Sara tenderly brushed a few stray hairs away from the little girl's face. Annabelle was almost asleep again. Nick looked at Sara, studying her expression. Beneath the calm exterior he could see the shadows that had been plaguing her for weeks now, and the exhaustion that never seemed to go away. And there was something else, an abject terror as though she was about to lose something precious, hear some awful news. Something else that had only crossed her face in the last few minutes.

Grissom entered the room again, disturbing Nick's thoughts. He handed a glass of orange juice to Annabelle who smiled and sipped carefully, her eyelids drooping.

"Anna, how did you get here?" asked Grissom gently.

"I walked some of the way and took the bus for the other part."

"On your own?"

"Yeah," came the half yawned reply.

"Why?" asked Sara, her faced creased with worry.

"Marie took me to her boyfriend's house in Henderson because she said they were going to watch movies and that she'd take me home later. But I woke up and they were gone. And there was a big party next door; they were making a lot of noise and I couldn't go back to sleep. So I came here." With another yawn the little girl's eyes fluttered shut and her grip on the cup slackened. Nick grabbed it before it tipped over and watched Sara get up and carefully lay the girl flat on the couch. Grissom grabbed a blanket from the arm and draped it over her. Sara pulled a collapsible fabric dish from inside the backpack and filled it with water from a bottle on the desk, then removed the leash from the dog, who lapped up some water before settling down beside her mistress. The three adults then retreated to the break room, pulling the door closed behind them.

Nick dropped weakly into a chair, running through the last few minutes in his mind, trying to put the pieces together. Grissom went to the counter and busied himself with making three strong cups of coffee. Sara paced for a moment, grinding her teeth to keep from shouting her anger, before throwing herself into a chair opposite Nick, her hands clenched in fury. She grabbed a napkin and began to shred it in quick, jerky movements, rage boiling passionately inside her. She was obliterating her third napkin when Grissom placed a cup of steaming coffee on the table in front of her and then moved his hand to her shoulder, squeezing for a moment before sitting in the chair next to her.

"Who's Marie?" asked Nick.

"Babysitter," replied Sara tersely.

"We can have Brass look for her," soothed Grissom.

"How does a ten year old manage to find her way across the city in the middle of the night?" wondered Nick.

"She's smart," sighed Sara, raking a hand through her hair.

"I'll say, and it's amazing no one stopped her," mused Nick. Sara glared daggers at him. He held up his hands in apology, "I'm sorry Sar, I think it's kinda sick that a child can cross a city like this in the dead of night but obviously it happens."

"Which is why," began Grissom, grabbing Sara's arm and forcing her back into her seat, "we will have the police look into this."

"Why not call the cops, or you for that matter?" asked Nick, his eyes on Sara.

"She's afraid of police. It's a long story that I really don't want to get into right now Nick, and as for why she didn't call me I don't know, we'll have to wait until she wakes up." Sara turned to Grissom, and was opening her mouth to speak when he said,

"She can stay in my office tonight while you work whatever evidence you have here. I have paperwork to catch up on anyway so I'll keep an eye on her. And I'll call PD in a moment; do you have Marie's details?" Sara pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled some notes on a napkin for Grissom, who took it and left. The female CSI slumped in her chair, burying her face in her hands and biting her lip to keep from crying. Nick moved around to her side of the table and slipped into the chair next to his friend. He put an arm around her shoulders, hugging her.

"If you need to talk, I'm here," he said quietly. She straightened and smiled weakly at him.

"Thanks, that means a lot. I'll explain, I promise. Lunch?" He nodded.

"I'll meet you here then?"

"Ok, and Nick… thanks… for everything!" He smiled gently and ruffled her hair.

"You're welcome sugar."

---

Sara settled at her work station, ready to do some digging on her prime suspect in a supposed suicide. She shoved her mail aside in an attempt to get straight to the job, and noticed a suspiciously legal-looking envelope. Heart pounding she picked it up and read the return address; Diagnostic Center for Genetics Testing. About to open it she stopped, cold fear gripping her; was she really ready to know?

---

Grissom sat filling out sheet after sheet of useless paperwork, feeling his gaze drawn more and more often to the sleeping child on his couch. Anna looked so peaceful and innocent that it hurt his heart to think of anyone being stupid enough to leave her alone, especially her. He knew that Brass had people looking for the MIA babysitter, but that didn't stop images of what might of happened from running through his mind. He had known Sara's daughter for years now; she was a vibrant and happy child but she had a scared past and required special attention. He understood Sara's rage, trusting someone to look after Anna was a big deal, and to have that trust broken would be devastating. When the dog raised its head and looked at him, as though blaming him for interrupting its rest, Grissom lifted his hands in apology and settled back into his chair, glaring at the budget report before him. Hadn't he just filled one of these out?

---

Nick ran down to the deli on the corner and picked up a couple of sandwiches for himself and Sara, then headed back to the lab. Catherine and Warrick, who had taken Greg with them to a scene, were still out in the field. He found his friend watching her daughter sleep through the window of Grissom's office. Taking her elbow he gently steered her into a chair in the break room and plopped a veggie sandwich and a bottle of water in front of her.

"Thanks," she murmured, pulling back the wrapping on her food. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Sara put down her sandwich and took a swig of water. She knotted her fingers together, biting her lip as she wondered where to start.

"When I had Anna I was really young," she began. "I hadn't been a CSI very long, I had just finished my masters' degree and I was studying at night for my PhD and working dayshift for the San Fran Crime Lab. I was scared out of my mind when I found out I was pregnant, I definitely wasn't planning it but I figured I could make it work. I did too; it worked for a while, four years actually. And then my friend had this birthday party…" Sara's eyes blurred and her voice trailed off. Nick watched her, concerned as she gulped water and tried to blink away her tears. Sara took a deep breath and continued. "My friend had a birthday party for her five year old…"


	2. Chapter 2

Sara closed her eyes and tried to block out images she didn't want to revisit. When that didn't work she fixed her gaze on Nick. She filled her lungs with air, holding on to it for a moment before letting it out. She had just opened her mouth to start talking when a commotion in the hallway stopped her. She looked at Nick, who raised an eyebrow and shrugged. They walked over to the door and looked out. Catherine was standing in Grissom's doorway waving her arms and talking very fast. Greg was picking up the contents of his kit and Warrick was struggling to hold onto armfuls of evidence. Sara approached and began to gather errant jars of dusting powder, handing them to Greg. Nick helped Warrick cart the evidence off to the vault. When Greg and Sara straightened up Catherine was inside the office and still rambling away a mile a minute.

"Is something wrong Catherine?" asked Sara, stepping up next to her, trying to think of a way to get Cath out of the room before she woke Anna. The blonde swung around to face her, glaring.

"None of your business," she snapped. "And I don't think that you should…"

"Wow, where did she come from?" asked Greg, cutting Catherine off. The blonde turned in the direction Greg was pointing. Her eyes widened.

"Good question," she breathed, her face softening as she stepped forward. Sara threw out a hand to stop her, motioning toward Parsley.

"A service dog," murmured Greg.

"Grissom, where did you get," began Catherine.

"I didn't," he replied, frowning at her.

"Wow Griss, there's a child sleeping on your couch," remarked Warrick as he sauntered in, Nick at his back.

"Yes," replied Grissom, removing his glasses, apparently deciding he wasn't going to get any work done in the immediate future. "And your point is?"

"Where did you get her?" asked Warrick. Greg sniggered as Grissom fixed Warrick with a look.

"I didn't. She came here of her own accord."

"Oookkkaaayyy," drawled Warrick, looking at Catherine for help. The blonde shrugged, and bent down, looking at the child, examining her face. Anna opened her eyes and scowled.

"I was sleeping, you know," she grumbled, blinking her eyes into focus. Catherine jumped; Greg and Warrick laughed. Anna's eyes flew open and she took in the scene, a panicked expression on her face as she gasped and clutched the blanket. Parsley was on her feet in an instant, growling at the CSI's. Sara pushed Cath and Greg out of the way and sank onto the couch, wrapping her arms around Anna, who buried her face in her mother's shirt.

"It's ok," soothed Sara, rubbing her child's back softly. She looked at Nick, her eyes pleading. He nodded and herded the others out of the office, shutting the door behind him.

---

"What is going on around here?" demanded Catherine, as Nick half dragged her into the break room, pointedly ignoring the lab techs as they stuck their heads out of their respective domains to see what the disturbance was. Greg, Warrick and Grissom followed; hungry and wanting a few minutes of relaxation. It didn't look like they were going to get the latter. Cath rounded on Nick then moment they were out of the hallways.

"Who is she and why was she sleeping in Grissom's office?" as if to accentuate her questioning she swung around to glare at Grissom, who was delicately open a pot of yogurt.

"Her name is Anna, she showed up here sometime after shift started while Sara, Grissom and I were at our scene. When we got back she was waiting for Sara. Her babysitter ditched her so she came here," answered Nick, taking a seat at the table. "Now calm down, no body kidnapped her and nothing illegal is going on here, alright?" Catherine inhaled a deep breath to calm herself down and took a moment to pour a cup of coffee and snag her lunch from the fridge. Settling at her usual place she looked at the others. Greg was setting up a chessboard, Grissom was reading a bug magazine and Nick and Warrick were chatting quietly. Catherine shook her head and tried to put the pieces together. She was about to give up when the door opened and Sara came in, the little girl holding tight to her hand and hiding behind her. Sara sat next to Grissom, pulling the chair next to her closer. When Anna sat Catherine could see that she was still holding onto Sara with a death grip. The dog stationed itself on the girl's other side, putting its head on her knee. The girl buried her free fingers into the shaggy fur on its neck. Sara bent and whispered in her ear; Anna nodded and peered up at the CSI's. When Nick smiled she gave him a small, nervous smile in reply.

"Anna, this is Greg, Warrick and Catherine," said Sara, pointing everyone out. "Team, this is Annabelle Sidle."

"Hi Annabelle, how are you?" asked Catherine, gently.

"Ok," was the tiny, shy reply.

"Isn't it a bit late to be awake missy?" asked Warrick, his voice kind. Anna stared up at him, her eyebrows knitting together.

"I was asleep," she murmured, "but she," she jabbed a finger quickly in Catherine's direction, "woke me up yelling." Greg laughed lightly.

"She does that a lot. Yell, I mean, not wake people up," he told her as he moved a pawn, then sat back waiting for Warrick to take a turn. Cath scowled at Greg.

"I didn't mean to," she told Anna, "and I'm sorry." Anna shrugged and watched Warrick.

"So how old are you Anna?" asked Greg, as he took one of Warrick's pieces.

"Ten," was the whispered reply.

"No way," said Warrick, "I wasn't as little as you when I was seven." Annabelle frowned at him and then looked up at her mother. Sara smiled reassuringly and nodded.

"She is. I'll bring you a copy of her birth certificate if you don't believe me."

"Her birth certificate," said Catherine slowly, "that would make you her mother then?"

"Not necessarily, but in this case yes," answered Sara, tearing her sandwich in two and giving half to Anna, while Catherine thought carefully. Sara inconspicuously looked at her co-worker from under her lashes, guessing the next question. "I'm not good with other people's children Cath," she said softly before taking a bite. Catherine was quiet for a while, chewing her salad and staring at nothing in particular. Anna continued to watch the chess game.

"How did you get here?" asked Catherine, suddenly. Anna looked up, startled.

"I took the bus, and then I walked."

"In the middle of the night? That's a bit dangerous," said Warrick, looking up from his game and reaching for his own sandwich. Anna shrugged and gestured toward Parsley.

"She's a guard dog?" asked Greg, his gaze resting on the golden retriever.

"She can be, if she wants to," replied Anna, petting her friend.

"Nick said your babysitter ditched you," said Catherine, "why didn't you call someone? Your mom, or the cops?" Anna shrugged again and looked at Warrick, pointing to the chess board.

"You're losing," she said.

"I am?" he asked. Annabelle nodded and then looked up at Sara, who smiled encouragingly and smoothed a hand over her daughter's flyaway curls. Annabelle slipped off her chair and walked over to Warrick, reaching past him and moving a knight. In less than a minute she had beaten Greg. The CSI wannabe stared at her.

"Rematch," he declared. "And the winner plays Grissom." Annabelle nodded and began to rearrange the board. From the far end of the table came Grissom's soft chuckle. Warrick vacated his seat and moved in next to Sara; the entire team turned to watch. Two minutes later Greg surrendered unhappily. Annabelle looked at his face.

"You were in your high school's chess club weren't you?" she asked, knowingly tapping her chin with one finger, "maybe even captain, right?" Greg glared at her. The team laughed.

"Best two of three," he snapped, reaching for his lost pieces. In the end, Greg lost seven of as many games, which, considering he could beat all but two of his co-workers, was a considerable blow. When it was time for Anna to play Grissom, the boss had vanished back to his office. Greg sat back in his chair, surveying the little girl thoughtfully.

"Where did you learn to play?" he asked her.

"At a hospital in San Francisco," replied Anna absently as she walked back to her mother. As her chair was still occupied by Warrick she climbed onto Sara's lap, settling contentedly against her mother's chest and closing her eyes.

"How old were you?"

"Four," came the sleepy reply. With another yawn Anna was asleep.

"Man," sighed Warrick, "I wish I could fall asleep like that."

"Me too," said Sara, wistfully as she got to her feet and carried her daughter back to Grissom's office. Her boss looked up as she walked in and smiled at her burden, whose mouth was slightly open while her hair wildly escaped its ponytail to curl madly around her face. Sara placed her little one on the couch and covered her with the blanket again before kissing her gently on the forehead. She smiled at Grissom, murmured her thanks, and returned to her workstation.

---

Two hours later her phone rang; it was Brass. PD had picked up Marie Waters and her boyfriend Nathan James two miles from the strip as they tried to drive away from a club but instead wrapped their car around a light pole. They were sitting in custody now. After checking with Grissom and seeing that Anna was still asleep Sara headed over to see Brass.

"Hey Sara," said Brass, when she knocked on his office door. She nodded and he continued. "We have them in a room if you want to talk to them. He blew twice the legal limit; she was one and a half times, looks pretty stoned too."

Sara clenched her fists and tried not to grind her teeth.

"You want to talk to them?"

"Yes," she sighed. He eyed her, feeling something along the lines of protectiveness in his thoughts. She caught his gaze and forced a smile that was more of a grimace.

"I want to talk to her," she said, decisively. "But you had better come with me, just in case."

"Ok," he replied, too easily. She sighed again.

"We'll talk later; heaven knows the world is going to want some answers after tonight."


End file.
